


Pan Galactic Defense Corps

by Pookaseraph



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alien!Newt, Fluff, Gen, Humor, I'm Sorry, M/M, No seriously Newt is an alien, Post-Canon, Pre-Slash, sort of passing mention of mental illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-20
Updated: 2013-08-20
Packaged: 2017-12-24 01:51:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/933748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pookaseraph/pseuds/Pookaseraph
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After they Drift together, Hermann is having a hard time deciding if his lab partner of over a decade is actually an alien, or is just legitimately delusional.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pan Galactic Defense Corps

**Author's Note:**

> I got this prompt on tumblr from anon: "(this is the most ridiculous prompt ever, feel free to ignore it.) Newt's secretly an alien." and... then I wrote this today. I'm vaguely sorry, but maybe not.

Newt stared at Hermann's math on the chalkboards that littered their collected lab, looking, trying to suss out some universal truth that he must not have been seeing. The Breach _could_ open again, that much was clear, and they needed to be more prepared. In theory, their last stand could be implemented again, this time with more preparation and more understanding of the theories behind what worked, but Newt didn't think they should just decide they had a theoretical solution and call it a day.

Hermann was somewhere else, maybe celebrating, maybe taking a nap to sleep off the Drift hangover he was no doubt experiencing. Newt, after the initial neural imbalance, was finding himself overcharged by the experience of billions of new memories and sensations coursing through his mind, filling it with facts that he had never known before, information that he tried to slot into his hypotheses to form some sort of universal understanding.

The steady tap of Hermann's cane, intermixed with footfalls said that his partner had arrived, sedate. Newt didn't bother to turn around.

"I'm not sure which is the more distressing possibility," Hermann said, coming to rest a few feet from Newt, standing abreast of him.

"Well the Breach will open again," Newt said. "I don't think we should be thinking in terms of whether or not it will open again, but when."

"I meant whether you are some form of _alien_ , or simply live with the honest, earnest, yet delusional belief that you are _from another planet_ , Newton!" Hermann snapped, words tumbling out so fast that Newt had almost missed some of them.

"Oh. That."

"Yes, _that_!" Hermann spat back. "I've always known you were... particular, but I had never given it the thought that you were legitimately delusional. I had assumed your particular brand of compulsion came with no impediment to your sensory faculties." Hermann sighed, and then tapped his cane against the ground, three or four times in rapid succession, his audible form of stewing. "I apologize, that was unkind."

"Never stopped you before," Newt answered, but he did turn to face Hermann, and looked him square in the eyes. "Is it really that hard to believe, after everything we've been through, Dude? But... yes, I'm an alien, almost any test you could do on me would confirm me to be, as I know you've always suspected, 'not quite right'."

Newt didn't pause to consider the full ramifications of outing himself. Hermann had been in his brain, and most of this would be something he could eventually put together if he bothered to unspool the information that he'd gathered. It was almost a relief. He had so few people to share the truth with - others like himself, mostly - and the idea of sharing that information with someone who might be able to accept and process that information, someone he respected, was actually like letting go of a burden that he had been carrying since he was a teenager.

Of course, once he'd actually opened his mouth, it was difficult to stop.

"Genetics, neural anatomy, and some aspects of physical anatomy all far enough off human baseline to make for an interesting case study. Unlike the Kaiju, I'm carbon based, dextro-amino acids..." Hermann's face grew increasingly more considered as Newt spoke. "Look, I'll bleed on something, put it in a sequencer, you'll see that although we have certain gross similarities, genetically we are as alike as a human and a dolphin, if that. I'm deleting it off the mainframe as soon as we have it, though."

Hermann seemed to find that acceptable, and he found himself on the receiving end of a great deal of scrutiny as he drew a sample - yes, he sat through full body tattoos, he could draw his own blood - introduced the appropriate chemicals, and set it up to be sequenced. It would take a few hours, though, and Hermann wasn't calming down at all. Of course, 'distressed' on Hermann looked mostly constipated.

"I don't get it," Newt said, as the two of them stared each other down across the lab. "You could see that in my mind, you know I've met other aliens, we just kicked alien ass off our planet. Why is it so hard to believe?"

Hermann gave him the exasperated sigh of ten years of knowing each other, before fixing Newt with a bland look. "Perhaps I'm perfectly justified in being concerned that an entirely different race of aliens has been secretly stealing and swapping children for decades, and they saw no need to intervene when we were forcibly invaded twelve years ago."

"One: Prime Directive, I know you've seen Star Trek; there's a certain threshold of intergalactic awesome that has to be met before humans are considered appropriate for true first contact. Two: it's not _stealing_ , my parents were well aware their biological son was going to be part of an intercultural exchange lasting decades, other Newt is actually a pretty famous composer, and the difference in human and my ear anatomy makes for some interesting differences there. Three: ... I'm not sure there's a three, oh, right, three: we come in peace!"

That earned him an eye roll.

"On the good side, pretty sure 'repel an alien invasion' is high on the list of things that add to our worthiness as a species," Newt said, and then took a moment to think about what he said. "Sorry, you're worthiness as a species? I mostly consider myself human, even if it's not technically accurate."

"I suppose that would explain your disgustingly advanced work and early admittance to MIT," Hermann said, thoughtful.

"HEY! That was all me: my interest, my hard work, my SAT scores, my research, and it's not like my mind is outside acceptable human intelligence tolerances. I didn't even know I wasn't human until I was already into biochem, physics, and engineering, and admitted to MIT. I did this..." He made a gesture, his fingers moving from side to side, indicating a swap. "That was my freshman year 'internship', a summer on the home front. There I was basically a fifth grader, it's a little humbling. I was already doing theoretical - and non-theoretical - astrobiology when the Kaiju hit because of that, sure, but I was always interested."

That had been one of the most amazing times in Newt's life, spending months exploring an entirely different culture, investigating the biology of the non-hybridized version of his native species, comparing the similarities of Newt as a sterile hybridization between human and alien to best suit Earth and blend in with the native population. He had _eaten_ alien game meat, and just taken in an entirely different world.

It was a scientists wet dream, and Newt had lived it for three months, gotten to know his... the man whose life he'd stepped into, and the parents who had contributed genetic material to produce him. He'd listened to alien symphonies and learned scraps of languages he didn't even have the orifices to reproduce. Maybe people used to go on a Grand Tour, but Newt had experienced life in a intergalactic consortium of awesome. Returning to Earth had almost been a let down, until he remembered he had an entire life of learning ahead of him.

"So you are not... a scout? An emissary whose mission it is to learn and undermine our defenses?" Hermann asked, voice _way_ too serious for someone who'd just learned - AGAIN - that they were not alone in the universe. That was always his problem, he had way too much professional distance while Newt had none.

"Nah, we're... an intergalactic cultural melting pot. We're the good aliens, we're to make sure if and when humanity gets their offer of 'hey, welcome to the space club' we don't offend each other by eating with the wrong fork or spitting on someone's honored ancestors with shitty pronunciation." Newt relaxed back against his desk now, while Hermann eyed him as though at any moment there might be snarling fangs, tentacles, or both. "I'm the same guy you've known for a decade, really. I barely have an ulterior motive, just... a little bit of background you didn't know before."

Hermann didn't seem to look at it that way, if his face was any indication. "Newton, I'm still not entirely sure you're not delusional, or if I should be concerned for you, or... if I should be concerned for my own mind from drifting from not one, but two alien intelligences - either that or one alien intelligence and a..." Hermann's voice trailed off, but Newt could get the thrust of it: someone mentally unbalanced.

"Hopefully it's nothing," Newt answered, not that it was particularly helpful. It was Hermann's choice to Drift with him. No, he hadn't exactly had all the facts, but time was of the essence and he wasn't sure he would have been able to handle the weight of the dying Kaiju brain all on his own, so... who knew. "I've been dodging the recommended neural scans, on account of the 'my brain's not human'."

He saw the pinched face, the doubt.

"Look, gel's got... five hours, at which point you will have concrete proof that I'm not nuts. Let's... food?" Newt stood up, hands spread wide, and waiting, and Hermann seemed to agree with that, if only to set the question aside.

"I think showers would be advised first, you smell like you crawled out of a Kaiju."

The two of them headed back to their respective quarters, and then Newt ended up in the communal showers - water rationing, sigh - where Newt stripped down with absolutely no shame and hopped into one of the more public stalls, and started to scrub away the grit of his last two days, spent almost entirely awake.

Hermann joined him several minutes later, and he could feel the man's eyes boring into him.

"I don't have a tail!" Newt snapped, and he felt the attention slip away as Hermann went to one of the stalls with a seat in case he needed it.

Newt didn't _get_ it. For him, finding out he was talking with an alien would have been the source of immediate fascination, it _had_ been a source of fascination in the time he'd spent off-world. Hermann seemed to be taking it as a personal affront. The two of them had known each other for years, and suddenly Newt was a potential space invader or had lost his faculties. You'd think stopping an alien apocalypse would have earned him at least a little good faith.

By the time Hermann had finished his shower, Newt was dry, changed into some fresh jeans, and examining the rapidly blossoming bruises on his ribs, taping up two of the cuts there, and then making sure to put some antibiotic lotion on the split to his lip and the one along his hairline and the knife cut up his _nose_. Ow. He was back to pressing on his ribs, checking them, when Hermann came over, changed into his own pants and an undershirt.

"What do you think?" Newt asked, glancing over to where Hermann continued his own grooming. "I'm thinking: save the world, get noodles."

"Noodles."

Which was how they found themselves with noodles, sitting on the edge of the helipad, watching the sun come up on the world that didn't end the day before. The two of them should have been in bed. Newt knew he was running on less than two hours worth of sleep, Hermann wouldn't have been been running on much more than that.

"What's the gravity?" Hermann asked, clearly unable to let it go.

"Uhh... 1.2ish? Little more than that, but it works for quick calculations."

"Your bones should be denser."

"I grew up in 1G." Newt picked at his food with a pair of chopsticks. "Besides, you are constantly accusing me of being thick-skulled, so which one is it?"

In spite of himself, Hermann snorted. "Atmosphere?"

"Nitrogen-Oxygen, mostly, higher oxygen, different mix of the trace elements, non-toxic to humans." Newt let a hand flutter in front of his chest for a moment, trying to put it into words. "It's _lighter_ , heady."

"Interstellar travel."

"Wormhole tunneling."

Hermann was silent for a moment, and then gave Newt a hard look. "Are you telling me you knew a portion of the theoretical physics behind the Breach, and you refused to even discuss the potential reasoning behind the Breach's defenses, or internal mechanisms, or--"

"Hermann! I'm an astrobiologist, not an astrophysicist, if I had known when I was _fifteen_ that my very survival would have been predicated on getting into the scientific discipline that frankly bores me to tears, I might have actually thought about it, but I got distracted by squishy alien innards, and a damn good thing I did."

"Yes, right..." Hermann ran a hand down his legs, his nervous tick that left chalk dust over the thighs of his pants on a regular basis. "It wasn't as though you attended a university there."

"So you believe me?"

"I believe you have an internally consistent explanation. I... when I think about it, I suppose I can grasp at recollections, red sandy stone and tinted glass, you breathing too fast and nearly passing out..." Hermann looked as though he wanted to rub his forehead and rub away the memories. "Either way, I am concerned for our drift."

"Some of the handshake software I cobbled together was to help dampen the effects of inter-species bridging, so that should also work from you to me." Newt wasn't that worried about it. "You should get checked out, anyway. I can probably pass off some abnormalities as Kaiju Drift."

The two of them looked out over the ocean. "How long do you think we have?" Hermann asked, flitting from one problem to the other, maybe a bit more like Newt or maybe just having a hard time now that he had two pressing problems on his mind.

"Years," Newt answered. "Even pessimistically. Gipsy destroyed their ability to make war, they will need to reestablish that first, and their raw materials seem to have been stretched thin. The Kaiju weren't exactly informed, but... that's the impression I had. Their desperation might make them start with an easier target first. You're the predictive modeler."

Newt _heard_ Hermann's mental response, even though he doubted the man had said it out loud, it was like his own mind had spit out Hermann's response: 'but _you're_ the alien'.

"Might not even matter."

"Pessimistic of you, Newton."

"No, I mean... repelling an alien invasion by sheer force of awesome might be enough to trigger a vote as to whether or not we are deserving of a first contact." Newt smiled, this time turning his head up to the sky. "Not that I think anyone will take too kindly to flying saucers anytime soon."

"Can you imagine?" Hermann actually laughed. "Stop one intergalactic incident only to start another."

Newt laughed into his own knee. That would be so much like humanity, pull together to fight one menace, and then throw it all away. He wondered how much would change, if suddenly they were not alone in the universe, but not in that mind-splittingly terrifying way, but in some nice, warm, happy way. "Hopefully they would consult us first!"

"And I would say, it's an entire planet of Newtons!" Hermann shook his head. "World War Three for sure."

"You don't really mean that," Newt said, knowing it for certain now in a way he never could have before. "You always found my mind incredible, you always..." Newt turned it over in his head, found himself shocked to discover that Hermann had... had found him attractive. An attraction his was no-doubt second guessing in the wake of Newt's... either being delusional or an alien. He wasn't sure how he felt about that; Hermann had been such a constant in his life... but that didn't matter now, pressing would do no good. "Well, anyway, we'll figure that out when it comes, if it comes."

"Gels will be done soon," Hermann said.

"How different is it going to have to be for you to believe me?"

"I haven't decided."

One and a half percent was apparently more than sufficient.

Newt ignored Hermann staring at the back of his head as he carefully deleted the run logs, the results, and all of that good stuff that would show Newt had just used the machine for the last few hours to run a genetic sequence on something mammalian, non-human, and yet distinctly not anything else on file.

When he finished, he spun around in his chair, looked at where Hermann was standing behind him, looking down at the printout, and then back up to Newt. "My God, you're an alien."

Newt made a little pinched face at Hermann, because, of course, now it was settling in, the gears were clicking, an entirely different sort of 'we are not alone' was settling in, and Hermann looked like he was going to have an aneurysm.

"If anyone was going to be an alien, I thought for sure it would be--"

"Newburg, I know. That guy was weird."

"Pot, have you met Kettle?" Hermann answered, but he still seemed to be deflecting, still trying to sort things out, his mind whirring and buzzing. "You look entirely human! You eat like a garbage disposal! The wildly differing environmental--!"

"I think we should probably crash," Newt said, deciding for both of them, turning Hermann and pointing him out of the room. "I'll still be an alien tomorrow when you wake up."

"That is not comforting, Dr. Geiszler."


End file.
